


Heroes of Valentia

by QuoteMyFoot



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Various Genres, background canon relationships, prompt collection, spoilers for entire game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-21 10:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 7,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14913522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuoteMyFoot/pseuds/QuoteMyFoot
Summary: A collection of mini fics, 100-500 words, based off the June Bite-Sized Emotions prompts on r/fanfiction. Character study-esque.1- Saber; 2 - Nomah; 3 - Celica; 4 - Rinea; 5 - Python; 6 - Mycen; 7 - Gray; 8 - Kamui; 9 - Mathilda; 10 - Delthea;11 - Faye; 12 - Kliff; 13 - Mae and Boey; 14 - Silque; 15 - Sonya; 16 - Tobin; 17 - Palla; 18 - Valbar; 19 - Atlas; 20 - Clair





	1. Sworn Sword (Saber)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 1: Your character sees/interacts with something from their childhood and it stirs up old feelings. (Up to 300 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 301

Saber pulled his boot out of the muck with a wet, sucking sound. The swamps seemed never-ending. He was beyond disgust at this point, watching the rest of the group to make sure nobody wandered off. They said that the mist could play tricks on the eyes out here, and the kids already looked exhausted.

 

This was not the Rigel that Saber remembered, but the hard trek, leaving the muscles in his legs aching, reminded him of the better parts of his army days. The marching hadn’t been half-bad; it had taught him the value of good boots, at least. Gods, how young he had been then. He’d dreamed of adventure and glory, being recognised by the Emperor…

 

Saber snorted. Here he was now, one of Valentia’s finest mercenaries, off to rescue a god with the long-lost Crown Princess of Zofia. Legends were made of stuff like this. Saber had thought himself past such childish dreams, but perhaps he wasn’t as wise as he thought. He’d been drawn into Celica’s orbit easily enough, even before they put the crown on her and made it all official. There was something about her determination – it was easy enough, at first, to believe it was just the product of a naïve lord’s daughter who’d been raised devout, but that was before Saber started to notice the haunted look in her eyes; how she’d greeted Zofia Castle like a prison.

 

Then he’d started to suspect she’d experienced more harshness than she let on. How much more impressive, then, that she still went on to fight impossible odds for no reward, because it was _right._ The kind of noble that his younger self would’ve been proud to serve; that, before meeting Celica, he thought extinct. He’d follow her anywhere now.

 

Pity about the all swamps, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are intended as kinda mini character studies, since I'm considering a longer fic for SoV and wanted to get into the characters' heads. I'm also not that used to writing short fiction, as you can probably tell. So any concrit or other feedback you have for characterisation or the minifics themselves would be appreciated!


	2. Stories (Nomah)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2: No shipping! Character A has found the perfect gift to show Character B how much they love them. For all my shippers, I'll have you covered later on! (Up to 500 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 553 words.

Nomah hummed cheerfully to himself. It was a wonderful day outside, and having finished leading morning prayers, he was free to spend the rest of the day in celebration. “Now then, what shall we do first?”

 

“Let’s go to the beach,” Silque said. “We can go fossil hunting!”

 

Genny blinked. “What’s a fossil?”

 

Silque took her arm and spent the short walk to Novis’ eastern beach telling Genny everything she knew about fossils.

 

Genny absorbed it all with wide eyes. “How do you know so much?”

 

“My mother taught me,” Silque replied, and then faltered when Genny’s face fell.

 

Nomah sighed. Poor Genny. It was hard for her to hear about others’ families when she had nobody but the people of the priory. Nomah had tried his best to make that no hardship at all, but it was awful for a small child to know that their own mother hadn’t wanted them.

 

But Genny made an effort to smile, and soon she and Silque were picking up rocks from the cliff edges, trying to crack them open. Nomah didn’t expect them to find anything, as this place wasn’t known for fossils—

 

“Nomah, look!” Genny cried, shoving two pieces of rock under his nose.

 

At his age, he should know better than to tempt fate in this manner. Two tiny ammonites with spiral shells stared up at him. “A very impressive find,” he said gravely.

 

Genny beamed.

 

After a sandcastle competition – Celica won, as Mae and Boey had spent so long fighting over the best shells that their sandcastles had looked more like sandhills – they walked back to the Priory. Genny held Nomah’s hand, still enchanted by the fossil she held in the other.

 

“Silque said that fossils are animals that lived a long time ago,” she said. “How did they end up on Novis?”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know, little one.”

 

“They were siblings,” Genny decided. “Sisters! Because they were so small, nobody thought they could… be good mercenaries! But—”

 

Nomah was regaled with the tale of the ammonite sisters, who fought a band of evil pirates bent on invading Novis. They succeeded in defeating the Pirate King and warning the people of Novis (who, naturally, were giant butterflies), but were overcome by the surviving pirates. Their last stand was described in quite bloody detail. Silque must’ve been lending her more violent books to Genny. Again.

 

“What a wonderful story, Genny,” Nomah said. It was her birthday. He could let it slide this time. “Just make sure you remember everyone on Novis when you’re a famous author.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Ah! Maybe you can tell _me_ a bedtime story instead!”

 

“ _Nomah!”_

 

 *

 

Despite his best intentions, Nomah had to return to his duties during the afternoon, but the Earth Mother herself couldn’t have kept him away from the gift-giving that evening. Whilst the Priory had an abundance of food, there wasn’t much money available for personal items, so it wasn’t to be an extravagant event – still, Genny was tremendously excited, and it was always lovely to see the little ones smile.

 

As he left his study, a book caught his eye. It was supposed to be a journal for his own studies into magic—one did not stop learning at any age!—but Nomah thought he knew of a worthier recipient.


	3. Resolve (Celica)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 3: A single candle burning in the dark. A moment of meditation and introspection. (100 Word Drabble)
> 
> Actual word count: 100 words!

One candle did little to light the dark halls. Celica’s heart beat loudly in her ears, but the Priory was deserted.

 

_A vision from the Mother…_

 

Before long, she stood before Mila's icon. In the dim light, Celica almost imagined someone was watching out of its eyes. Her breathing slowed.

 

The Priory was home, but she’d known it couldn’t be forever. She couldn't be ‘Celica’ forever. It was still hard to let go.

 

_But if I don't, Alm will be…_

 

“I don't know if I am ready, Earth Mother.” The candle’s flame flickered. “But I will do what I can.”


	4. The End (Rinea)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 4: Conflict is the spice of life and there is one your character has been avoiding. (Up to 300 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 300

In the sprawling catacombs under Rigel Castle, the light was poor and the rough stone walls offered little comfort. Rinea inched forward, holding the lantern ahead of her. The air was filled with howls and shrieks and the monotone voices of the witches. She drew her cloak closer around her. This was Duma’s domain, but she had to press on.

 

Everything had been uprooted for Berkut so suddenly. Rinea was merely relieved; she’d never wanted to be Berkut’s empress, only his wife. But she knew how much it had meant to him, to be Emperor.

 

She blamed herself. It had been cowardice on her part – the more Berkut tried to make grand, romantic gestures in promises of what he would do when they were Emperor and Empress, the more Rinea had tried to disguise her feelings on the matter. She had been frightened of losing him, that he would want to take a wife more suited to the position of Empress. How selfish! If Berkut had put the needs of the Rigelian people first and broken their engagement, that would've only been right. And perhaps if Rinea had told Lord Berkut that she loved him for the man he was now, that the riches and power and position were irrelevant to her—maybe he wouldn’t have taken Prince Alm’s return so badly.

 

Rinea was correcting that mistake now. If Berkut detested her for her lies, if he shouted and raged at her for her cowardice, that was only what she deserved. If he never wanted to see her again, it would break her, but she would bear it for his sake.

 

As long as she could make him see that he didn’t need to be anything else, that it was enough for him to simply be _Berkut_ —nothing else mattered.


	5. A Little Piece of Home (Python)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 5: Absolutely nothing interesting is happening at all. Nothing. (Up to 500)
> 
> Actual word count: 500

Most of the camp were tense and nervous. They couldn’t move until they heard back from the scouts, but they were a day overdue. The soldiers were restless, flittering about like butterflies.

 

_What chumps._

Python wished he could close his ears as well as his eyes; their chatter was so distracting. The sunshine this far north was weak, but laying on the cold, hard ground for a few hours made it seem warmer. It was almost like being back at home.

 

“Python! What on earth are you doing?!”

 

Ah, now it really _was_ like being back at home. He cracked an eye open. Forsyth had undoubtedly been full of more nervous energy than usual, because his hair was sticking up at absurd angles from running his hands through it.

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Python said.

 

“Being absolutely useless, as is your way.”

 

“Oh no. You’ve found me out.” He closed his eyes again. “You better go report this to someone more senior. It sounds serious.”

 

Instead of leaving like any sensible man would, Forsyth nudged Pythons’ leg with his boot. “For gods’ sake, Python, we might be fighting tomorrow. Do some target practise, if you really have nothing else to do than to laze about.”

 

Sighing, Python propped himself up on his elbows. There were bags under Forsyth’s eyes, and he kept blinking slowly, as though he was having difficulty focussing.

 

Yep. He’d overdone it. _Again._

 

“I suppose that’s what you’ve been doing?” he drawled. “Training, running errands for Sir Clive…”

 

Forsyth drew himself up proudly. “Yes!”

 

“…And now you have nothing better to do than to make me feel like shit too, huh?”

 

His face fell. “Python—”

 

Patting the ground next to him, Python gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re so predictable.”

 

Forsyth sat. He even managed to make that look like an energy-intense activity requiring maximum effort.

 

Python yawned. “You know that it doesn’t do good to get yourself worked up over a battle that might not even be tomorrow, right?” He poked Forsyth’s cheek, startling him. He was totally off his game, the useless sod. “C’mon, relax a little.”

 

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, Sir Clive did suggest…”

 

There had already been one more ‘Sir Clive’ than Python wanted to hear on this day. He lay down again, closing his eyes. Bugger. Now the ground felt freezing again. He shuffled a little closer to Forsyth, who was always warm.

 

It was silent again—well, mostly silent. Distantly, he could still hear the chatter of the camp, but it didn’t sound quite as loud next to Forsyth’s steady, even breathing. It reminded him of the times Forsyth had skipped his lessons. There’d been a meadow close to their village, and sometimes, the two of them would be out there for hours, watching the sky or talking.

 

Python didn’t open his eyes, but he smiled _. Yes. This feels like home._

 

Forsyth shifted suddenly. “Wait, Python! What about—"

 

“Gods, you’re so bad at this.”


	6. A Bright Future (Mycen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 6: It is a scene of immeasurable, world appropriate, beauty that moves you character(s). Describe it and how it makes your characters feel, but you cannot use the words heard, felt, saw, tasted, or smelled—or any permutation of them. (Up to 300 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 299

Mycen had always found Zofia Castle to be too extravagant for his tastes. Alm and Celica had put most of the priceless tapestries and so forth away; the centrepiece for this event was an enormous map of the continent. Mila and Duma stood either side of the landmass as guardians. It was detailed with cities and villages and historic sites; even Ram was there, represented by the cottage that Mycen and Alm, and even Celica, had called home for a time.

 

He had to swallow past the lump in his throat. There would be time for sentiment later.

 

The crowns were brought out for Alm and Celica. There was a collective sigh of relief from the room as they were declared King Albein of Rigel, and Queen Anthiese of Zofia. But that was only the first part.

 

Nomah and Halcyon began the wedding rites, which had been a month of planning on their own.

 

The effort was totally lost on Mycen, and, it seemed, on Alm and Celica. They clasped each others’ hands and said all the right words and could not tear their gazes away from one another. For the moment, they weren’t monarchs at all – only the two people dearest to Mycen in the entire world. Tears formed in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but eventually, he had to admit defeat.

 

_The next journey might be even longer and harder than the last – but together, they can make this one a success, too._

 

He must be getting sentimental in his old age. At least, that’s what Rudolf would have said.

 

“I pronounce you now husband and wife…”

 

“…and the King and Queen of the One Kingdom of Valentia.”

 

_Ah, you’d be proud of them both, old friend, and weeping just as bad as I._


	7. There Was an Attempt (Gray)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 7: It’s a date! But something goes wrong. And then something else. And things are really not going well at all. If you normally write whump this *has* to be fluff. If you normally write fluff, this *has* to be whump. If you are between somewhere, pick whatever you want. (Up to 400 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 474
> 
> I normally lean towards angst, so I tried for fluff. How fluffy this piece actually is... is questionable.

Python, the gossip, swore that Clair loved traditional romance stories. Gray had managed to buy one in the last village. _Check._ Delthea insisted that she liked mind games. Gray had borrowed a chess board. _Check._ Clive… just sort of glared at him until he went away. (Gray would totally win him over. You know, eventually.) _Mathilda_ told him that Clair had been doing too much of late. Gray found somewhere secluded to enjoy a beautiful sunset. _Check_ and _check._

 

It went wrong almost immediately.

 

Clair had already read the book. She hated chess. Worst of all, when Gray said he knew of a nice place they could eat together, Clair said, “Oh, are you talking about that ridge over there? I spotted it when I was surveying the camp with Aero yesterday.”

 

Thoroughly defeated, Gray nonetheless climbed up to the ridge with Clair. Gray’s mother didn’t raise any… uh, raised only _one_ quitter, and it wasn’t him. The view from the top of the ridge _was_ beautiful though. Even Gray couldn’t ruin a sunset.

 

“What’s wrong?” Clair said.

 

He wasn’t sure how she remained so cheerful, since this was supposed to be for _her_ benefit. “It’s just… nothing worked out how I wanted it to, that’s all.”

 

“Oh, Gray.” She smiled. “That’s not what’s important! It matters that you _tried._ Come now, you didn’t really think I’d believe _you_ wished to learn chess, did you?”

 

“Uh… maybe?”

 

 “But you wanted to learn because you thought it would make me happy, correct?”

 

“Well—yeah, but—”

 

“And you brought me here because you thought I would like it?”

 

“Mathilda said you’d been working too hard! It was supposed to be relaxing!”

 

“And this book…” Clair laid it on her knees, smiling and tracing the faded title. “It was one of my favourites, you know, but naturally we had all our estates and whatnot confiscated when Clive began the Deliverance. _This_ copy will be all the more precious because it’s my first gift from you.”

 

Gray’s breath caught in his throat when she turned to look at him. Her hair caught the last rays of the sun and practically _shone_. She was so beautiful. But the flush of her cheeks made him realise how unhealthy she’d seemed for the past few days.

 

“I’m glad I could help,” he said softly, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke her cheek. “If you need help with anything else, you know… you can just ask me. Don’t take too much on yourself.”

 

Clair looked down and for a moment Gray worried he’d pushed too hard—but then she laced her fingers through his.

 

“I’ll try,” she said.

 

It was times like this that Gray wondered what business he had with a woman like Clair. But it was also times like this that made it impossible to let go.


	8. Dramatic Irony (Kamui)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 8: Character A is about to face one of their greatest fears with Character B by their side. (100 Word Drabble)
> 
> Actual word count: 100

The necrodragon crashed to the ground not ten feet away. The muscles underneath the decaying flesh flexed as it roared. Kamui tightened his grip on his sword, which was slippery with sweat.

 

Leon fired an arrow at it. “You worry too much.”

 

“It's a _necrodragon._ Worry more! This mad priestess—"

 

Then the dragon was thrown back by a blinding light. _Seraphim._ Maybe not a hopeless fight after all.

 

Leon gave him a pointed look.

 

“She could've said earlier,” Kamui mumbled.

 

As long as this was the last necrodragon he ever saw, Kamui could forgive the mad priestess, just this once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narrator: This was not the last necrodragon Kamui saw.


	9. Better Late Than Never (Mathilda)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 9: Your characters are off to their favorite celebration! Is it a party? A festival? Just the day they met their lover? (Up to 400 Words)
> 
> Actual words: 462

She was assisting Lukas with sorting through the new weapons shipment when he delicately suggested that if she had plans for the evening, he understood.

 

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Mathilda said. “I have no plans, however, and I am happy to assist.”

 

“You don’t?” He frowned. “I thought you and Sir Clive…”

 

_Why would—?_

 

Mathilda dropped the lance she was holding. “Oh no.”

 

“Ah,” Lukas said, ever circumspect. “I will see you at the strategy meeting tomorrow, I expect.”

 

She fled in embarrassment. Being in Rigel, with the different climate… _But still, how could I have forgotten the anniversary of our engagement!_

 

She burst into his tent, sweating from the run, still in her armour—only to find it empty. Where—?

Clive pulled back the opening of the tent, his eyes wide. “Mathilda, I am sorry, I—”

 

He stopped, taking in her appearance. He did not look at his best, himself, hair clinging to his forehead. Mathilda began to laugh, and Clive followed suit only a moment later, leaning on her for support and wheezing.

 

“I’m glad I am not the only one who forgot,” she said.

 

“It’s been five years,” Clive said. “It must be our old age getting to us. Clair informed me that she expected to have at least two nieces by now.”

 

“Nieces? I fear she may be disappointed. I was the only girl amongst six siblings and eight cousins.”

 

“Ah, I’m sure she would love two nephews just as much.” Clive took one of her hands and squeezed it gently, tugging at the fingers of her glove to remove it. “After all, your sons could not fail to impress anyone.”

 

 _“Our_ sons,” she said, watching as Clive kissed each finger on her hand. “…Do you regret it?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Our not being married yet.”

 

Clive paused in loosening the straps on her armour. He pulled her close, slipping off her helmet and letting her hair fall loose. “Do you?”

 

Mathilda kissed his neck. He breath hitched. “I asked first.”

 

“…Sometimes,” he admitted. “I thought we might have a family by now. But…”

 

If they had a family, the war would’ve been more difficult. Young children to think of when leading a rebellion… could they have done it? Would Mathilda have taken those risks, those _necessary_ risks, if she’d known she might be leaving her children motherless? It was impossible to say.

 

“As soon as the war is over,” she decided, “let’s get married. We’ll find the first priest who will take us and exchange our vows. I don’t want to be forever waiting for ‘the right time’.”

 

Clive cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. When they broke apart, he said, “If it’s with you, it will always be the right time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm not very good at romance either.


	10. Ordinary (Delthea)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 10: Something takes your characters completely out of their comfort zone. A camping trip. Moving to a new place. Attending a conference with hundreds of strangers. A feast at the palace when they've never been before. Be creative. Whatever it is, it's new. Is it exciting? Is it uncomfortable? Let us know! (Up to 500 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 499

Delthea thought locking away her magic would be more… well, just _more._ At first she worried the ritual had failed, but no – when she tried to conjure a flame, nothing happened. No magic.

 

She grinned.

 

_No more nagging! No more pressure!_

 

Then she realised it was getting dark. Cursing, she began to rummage through the drawers for a candle. She needed to get rid of the ingredients for the ritual or they’d stink the room up. Well, more than they had.

 

People seemed surprised she’d gone through with it, but Delthea couldn’t see why. She hadn’t worked for her magic; no one _gave_ it to her out of kindness. It wasn’t earned. And mages were coveted – Tatarrah had shown her that. She didn’t want to be somebody’s prize.

 

She wandered the palace, wondering if Alm (sorry, ‘his Majesty’) would apprentice her up to someone. Maybe in the treasury? Counting coins sounded boring, but it might be nice to be boring and steady for a while.

 

Then she heard the shouting. Curious, she followed it to find a group of boys fighting. Well, three boys were fighting. One boy was just sort of… being hit a lot.

 

“Hey!” she said, “Sod off.”

 

All four of them turned to look at her.

 

“Who the hell’re you?” one of them said.

 

He didn’t even recognise her? How rude.

 

Delthea rolled her eyes. Seriously, they should’ve just run before she got a good look at their faces. “A concerned citizen. Now leave the poor guy alone.”

 

“He’s just from a coward’s family,” the same boy said.

 

“Well, he’s not the one attacking somebody else three-to-one, _so…_ ”

 

He snarled and squared up to her. Delthea started to raise her arm, and then remembered she didn’t have magic anymore.

 

Oh well. “Last warning.”

 

The boy was four inches taller than her and just sneered. He wasn’t sneering a few moments later, sprawled on the floor. _Thank you, Mathilda!_

 

Her lip was stinging.

 

“You can’t fight us! Our families were in the Liberation Army!”

 

“That’s cute.” Delthea touched her lip and pulled her fingers away with a spot of blood on them. Cool! “I fought with the King personally. Unless you can tell me _he_ wants you to beat up random kids ‘cause their families didn’t fight for the Deliverance, you’d better scram.”

 

Finally, they seemed to recognise her. The boy at the back swore and ran for it, the other two soon following.

 

The boy they’d been beating on rose to his feet. He already had a black eye. “You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered.

 

Delthea pretended not to notice him wiping the tears from his face. “Yeah, but I did _great_!” She pointed to her split lip proudly. “I earned this!”

 

The boy looked at her for a long moment.

 

“You’re demented,” he said eventually.

 

Maybe. Delthea just felt absurdly happy, like she was about to float away. _Alm should totally make me his Captain of the Guard instead. I got this!_


	11. Reliable (Faye)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 11: Hello! Someone’s family (or family by choice) just showed up on short notice—or no notice at all—and they want to stay a while. Use internal monologue liberally to tell us how they feel about it. (Up to 300 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 300

Faye didn’t pay much attention to gossip, preferring to stay at home and read, so the first she knew of Gray and Tobin being back in Ram was when she opened the door to them.

 

“Hey! What’ve you been doing?” Gray said brightly.

 

Faye stepped aside to let them in reflexively. _Terrified of sleeping?_ But she couldn’t say that. “Not much. You know how it is here.”

 

“Ah, good old _reliable_ Ram,” Tobin said. “Unlike Gray _._ ”

 

“Look, I told you I wrote them, okay? The letter must’ve just—gotten lost—"

 

Tobin rolled his eyes and grinned at her like a co-conspirator. It took Faye a moment to realise that they were asking to stay. Her throat tightened; her parents were disturbed enough by the fact she woke up in the middle of the night screaming.

 

Something must’ve shown on her face. Tobin’s smile faltered.

 

“Of course,” she found herself saying. “No point opening up Gray’s place when we’ve got room here.”

 

Except it wasn’t Gray’s house anymore, was it? None of Faye’s old friends lived in Ram. Even the folks who’d never left didn’t feel the same anymore. Or maybe it was just that Faye wasn’t herself, and hadn’t been for a long time.

 

Even Gray and Tobin weren’t the same. She’d known them her entire life, but it seemed at some point she’d looked away and the cheeky boy who thought he knew everything had been replaced with a world-weary man; Tobin looked less like a boy trying too hard and more like someone who knew what he was doing.

 

But Faye knew she couldn’t go on just trying to be the person she was. She had to adapt, to live. Trying to find who she was with her new-old friends seemed like a good way to start.


	12. Spark (Kliff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 12: Describe something your character loves in detail, using metaphor. If you are feeling adventurous, try using a POV style you don’t normally use, like first or second. (Up to 200 words) 
> 
> Actual word count: 187
> 
> I was not feeling adventurous.

Being able to control magic was like being in the centre of a storm; lightning crackling at your fingertips, thunder a roar in your ears – spectacular. Kliff couldn’t breathe for the thrill of it sometimes. Every singed finger and piece of burnt clothing was worth it for the heat that ran through his arm and the fire he could hold in his hand, illuminating the way.

 

In some ways, using magic to fight seemed… wrong. Yeah, it was convenient, to not have to carry a weapon, but it you might as well feed a starving man with the finest of banquets. It worked, but it was a waste compared to what you could _really_ do with it.

 

As soon as Kliff understood there was a storm inside him, he wanted to be able to do more with it than create makeshift lanterns and summon winds. He wanted to get _out_ of the tiny, insular world of Ram village and _do_ something _._ He wanted to know the secrets of the earth and challenge the gods and to fly.

Kliff would be a storm all of his own making.


	13. Shine (Mae and Boey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 13: Write Character A’s observations and ruminations on character B while Character B is out having some much needed fun. Does is Character A in love with Character B? Do they dislike them? Does seeing them in this situation give them new insight on the other character? Does it make them happy, or angry? (Up to 300 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 300

Boey had been so boring recently. Sure, the journey to the Sage’s Hamlet had been tough, and Celica had told them to relax before they left and all that. But did he _really_ have to spend days with his nose buried in a book? He only emerged to eat, sleep, and quiz the Duma Faithful about their religious teachings. _Ugh._

 

Alright, so _maybe_ it was a bit endearing to see him really invested in something. Boey had always been the scholarly one, the one who was genuinely interested in being at the Priory over just being somewhere that didn’t stink of fish. This had its upsides for Mae; Boey could cast _Thunder_ now, but Mae’s was still bigger and hurtier.

 

But… everyone at the Priory had noticed how much Nomah valued Boey’s input, despite his young age. The gossip was that Nomah was grooming Boey to be his successor as the leader of the Mila Faith.

 

Mae thought it was absurd. Boey was even younger that _she_ was. Leading the entire church? Pfft, he couldn’t even lead the way through a graveyard.

 

Except here, he was clearly in his element. He was already making friends amongst the Sage’s followers, pointing out the commonalities between the Mila and Duma Faiths. Nomah had made a point of staying out of these discussions, and Mae could see the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he watched Boey flourish, even without his support.

 

It was kinda, you know… cool. In a way. Not actually _cool_ , but just sort of… Boey cool. He was going to do great things in the Faith, probably.

 

And _maybe_ she could be a good, supportive friend and say so… if he would do more than quote religious texts at her!

_You’re the absolute worst, Boey!_

(But not really.)


	14. The Little Things (Silque)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 14: It's morning. Ugh. And your character has woken up on the wrong side of the bed and there is a hitch in the morning routine. (Up to 300 words). We're gonna need a bigger pot of coffee over here guys.
> 
> Actual word count: 499 words. But I went over on purpose!

Silque had retired exhausted the previous night, but she woke feeling heavy and barely rested at all. Blearily, she opened her eyes. It was still dark.

 

“My apologies for disturbing you, priestess,” a voice said. After a moment, Silque was able to place it as Mathilda’s. “I fear that one of our soldiers has reopened his wounds, and it is quite serious. Could you come?”

 

“Of course,” Silque said, but it was nearly painful to leave the cot and hurriedly get dressed.

 

She raced to the medical tent. The man was the same one who’d been brought to her yesterday, a deep wound in his thigh and abdomen, already delirious from blood loss; he was lucky to be alive at all. Silque had spent half an hour pouring magic into healing him. She saw the blood already leaking through the bandages and, somehow, felt even more tired.

 

“How did this happen?” she said.

 

One of the soldiers at his bedside snorted. “Idiot tried to get out of bed—didn’t want to be a nuisance—”

 

Silque breathed out slowly through her nose and didn’t listen to the rest of the explanation. “Then let’s hope nobody else is seriously injured today, or their death will be on your head.”

 

The room fell silent.

 

She resented the way they stared at her in shock. Magic was not a miracle; every spell cost Silque energy, and she had little enough left to work with as it was. She did not give orders for bedrest to torture her patients. She tried to be understanding with their frustrations, but her patience was not endless.

 

Silque healed the man in silence. In her exhaustion, it took longer than usual. He did not look at her the entire time.

 

By the time she was finished, it was the early morning. The camp was bursting to life, ready for the day’s march. Silque thought herself used to hard work, but the thought of taking down her tent with aching fingers and a long day spent on march made her want to cry.

 

But when she got to her patch of ground, she found the tent already neatly bundled away with the supplies. Faye stood there instead, wringing her hands.

 

“Silque!” She smiled. “I heard you got woken up for an emergency, so I took care of your things.”

 

_Finally being friendly with me now that your boy rejected you?_

 

Silque took a deep breath. That was an unkind thought. Regardless of Faye’s situation, she didn’t have to be friendly to Silque, or to do her favours like this. “Thank you, that makes things a little easier.”

 

Her hands tingled uncomfortably as the numbness began to fade. The sunshine in Rigel didn’t have enough warmth to soothe her aches. When she’d visited before, she’d enjoyed the bracing cold.

 

And now to look forward to a day of sitting in the wagons, being tossed this way and that, through mud, to do all this again on some other day.


	15. Sisterhood (Sonya)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 15: Two people. One bed. A LOT of pillows. (Or blankets if pillows aren't a thing in your universe). Please remember to link and warn if you get smutty with this. (Up to 500 words)
> 
> Actual word count: 500 words
> 
> Why write smut when you can write tooth-rotting fluff?

Sonya wasn’t sure what woke her. Nobody had been sleeping well recently. Duma’s Tower loomed ever closer, and soon there would be a confrontation. Seeing Jedah had left Sonya so breathlessly angry. She’d be more prepared next time.

 

She waited, keeping her breathing even, until she heard quiet footsteps. He cracked open an eye to see only Genny, carefully heading for the door. There were dark circles under her eyes. This couldn’t the first time she’d woken in the night.

 

_Typical of an abandoned child. Always trying to avoid causing trouble…_

 

Sonya had been the same until she’d learned to be furious instead. She sat up. It was so dark that Genny didn’t notice her for a moment.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean—”

 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Sonya asked.

 

Genny ducked her head and didn’t say anything, which was answer enough by itself.

 

She beckoned. “Sit with me.”

 

The girl was still a little nervous around Sonya. She’d forgotten how to be soft, so it was understandable. It seemed such a long time ago that she and her sisters had comforted each other after bad dreams. She wondered if they were even capable of remembering things like that as witches.

 

Still, Sonya’s heart ached when she wrapped an arm around Genny’s shoulders. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “We’re strong together. We can do this.”

 

“I’m not worried about that,” Genny insisted, although Sonya could feel her relaxing at the reassurance. “It’s just… Celica has been acting… strangely.”

 

Yes. She didn’t know the princess well, but even she had noticed the moody silences and newfound tendency to stare off into the distance. But it wouldn’t help Genny for her to worry about it more. “Being a leader is hard,” she said. “And she’s Princess Anthiese now. She has more to worry about than just this small group. I’m sure she’ll adjust, given time.”

 

Genny nodded, drawing her knees up to her chest. She did not seem reassured.

 

Sonya let out a breath. There was little else she could say – at least that wouldn’t sound like a lie, even to young Genny’s ears. But she knew it wasn’t good for her to be unable to sleep. She was their healer, and they needed her at her best. And… well, she was the youngest of them all; in a way, she’d become everyone’s little sister. It was hard to see her suffer.

 

“What are you doing?” Genny mumbled, as she watched Sonya rearrange the bedding.

 

Sonya reached over and stole one of Valbar’s lumpy pillows. It was for the greater good. “It was something I used to do, after I was left at the Priory. A bed nest!”

 

Genny smiled. “I can’t imagine you doing something like that at all…”

 

“Oh? Well, see for yourself. Be a bed bird with me.”

 

She snorted. Valbar grunted in his sleep. “A bed bird…”

 

“Cheep cheep,” Sonya said gravely, grinning as Genny smothered her laughter in the blankets.

 

_That’s more like it._


	16. To The Future (Tobin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 16: Weddings are full of emotions both good and bad. Character A finds themselves in the position of having to help Character B handle their emotions either at the wedding or at the reception after. (Up to 400 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 499 words
> 
> I mistook it as '500 words' and then was like... 'well, I can't cut this down NOW'.

Tobin shook his head. “Alm, stop fiddling. You’re going to make the tailors cry.”

 

Alm dropped his hands and forced a laugh. His voice cracked.

 

“Relax,” Tobin said, “it’s just Celica.”

 

“I know!” He ran a hand through his hair, ruining the careful work of yet another attendant.  “Well, Celica isn’t _just_ anything, but… It’s not the wedding. It’s what happens after…”

 

Gray would kill Tobin for missing an opening like that, but he managed to keep a straight face.

 

“Being king is… I don’t know, Tobin. All I’ve done is won a war. I can fight, but I don’t know anything about _ruling.”_

 

“You killed a god,” Tobin said dryly. “Don’t forget that part. It’s pretty impressive.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure that will be very helpful in formulating our agricultural policy! _Come on, Tobin!_ I don’t know how, or if it’s even possible, to be ready for this.”

 

It was difficult for Tobin to really understand. Sure, Alm had been taught by Mycen… but so had everyone. Faye had attended nearly as many strategy and logistics lessons as Alm, and Tobin hadn’t been far behind. Mainly to have an excuse to escape his younger brothers and sisters. But still! Mycen was a Zofian hero. It’s not like he’d sat  and daydreamed the whole time. He _learned._

 

But he couldn’t have won that war like Alm did. To him, it seemed like Alm could do anything.

 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “If all else fails, you can just sit there and look pretty, and I’ll take care of everything.”

 

Alm threw his head back and laughed. “Sure.” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “You have to get a more impressive title, though.”

 

“Oooh, Sir Tobin?”

 

“Hmm… I was thinking more like Count,” Alm said. “Maybe Earl.”

 

Tobin’s laughter died in his throat when he realised Alm was serious. “Wait, uh… you don’t have to do that! I mean, I’m just some guy—”

 

Alm put his hand on Tobin’s shoulder. “No, you’re not. If you’re really opposed, I won’t, but I think you’d do a good job. It’s not _just_ a reward, you know. Most of the old nobility expect things to go on as before. But I want them to take Celica and me seriously. I want the _people_ to take us seriously when we tell them that the nobility won’t hold all the power now, that the station of your birth doesn’t decide the rest of your life.”

 

Typical Alm. Talking about not being ready for kingship with a straight face, then making speeches like that. _Hopefully Celica can work on his self-awareness…_

 

He cleared his throat. “If you and Celica think it’s for the best, I’ll do whatever you want.” Alm looked like he was about to object, so Tobin added, “I’m serious. I trust your judgement. If you say this will help Valentia… then I believe you.”

 

Alm smiled. His shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, Tobin. It means a lot to hear you say that.”


	17. Like Night and Day (Palla)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 17: What does this morning’s sunrise mean to your character? (100 Word Drabble)
> 
> Actual word count: 100

Deserts, Palla thought, were a study in opposites. In the day, the sun was merciless; at night, it was cold enough for your breath to mist in front of you. The barren, hostile land was starting to wear on their new companions, but to Palla it was strangely comforting. It reminded her of her sisters, their own opposites – Catria, logical and placid, and Est, impulsive and energetic.

 

As the sun rose, she took a deep breath. Today they would confront Grieth himself. Est would be freed, and Palla would have both her sisters again, at her side where they belonged.


	18. Memories (Valbar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 18: Death comes to all one day. How does your character feel about death? What do they believe? (Up to 300 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 299

The grief sometimes was like weights over his shoulders, dragging him down. Valbar still kept going. He couldn’t stop now – for his family’s sake, for Leon, for the priestess. It didn’t sit right to him, to give up this precious thing that had been snatched away from his family. Not that it wasn’t tempting, sometimes, when a stray thought crossed his mind. What would his son be like when he grew up?

 

Only Valbar would never know because his little boy had been struck down by a pirate’s axe, terrified and weeping, and Papa hadn’t been there to save him. He couldn’t ask his mother about that song she used to sing, couldn’t tease his sister about the girl who brought her flowers, couldn’t share the Whitewings’ stories with his wife…

 

It would be easy just to overextend, to take more hits than the priestess or little Genny could heal up after.

 

Not just because of his debt to Celica, or the people he might save by taking up arms against Grieth’s louts. More often, it was little things. A Rigelian song that his father would’ve loved. Hearing a story that his son would love. Just being able to tell them about all these wonderful things was more important than his own feelings.

 

Valbar had brought a journal and worked diligently every evening, recording these memories. You couldn’t take anything with you to the afterlife, but if he made sure to read through the journal a lot, surely he’d remember it.

 

And then… one day he would just… go. Like falling into bed after a long day of hard work. A relief. There wouldn’t be any guilt, he wouldn’t feel the need to explain himself – there would just be him and his family again, together as they should’ve been.


	19. A Song Someone Sings (Atlas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 19: Your character is making music. Whether with singing or instruments, alone or with a group, to an audience or to an empty room, how do they perform? What song do they choose? How does the music make them feel? Bonus points for linking the song, if it exists IRL. (Up to 300 Words)
> 
> Actual word count: 300
> 
> The song is 'Once Upon a December' from Anastasia. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWwKdejZLfE

Atlas should’ve been sleeping, but instead he wandered away from the village, up on to one of the old mountain trails. It had become somewhat overgrown since he’d left.

 

“Sorry, old friend.” His voice seemed to echo emptily. “I’ll be a while before I’m back for good.”

 

Wind whistled through the trees like a mourning cry.

 

“I’ll come home, I promise.”

 

The mountain still felt lonely. He hummed a tune under his breath, and before long, he found himself singing:

 

_“Someone holds me safe and warm,_

_Horses prance through a silver storm._

_Figures dancing gracefully_

_Across my memory…”_

 

Atlas hadn’t sung this song since Ma died. Maybe the mountain remembered her too, because the atmosphere began to feel warmer.

 

_“Far away, long ago,_

_Glowing dim as an ember._

_Things my heart used to know,_

_Things it yearns to remember.”_

“What song is that?”

 

Atlas tripped over a tree root.

 

“Sorry!” Celica hid a smile behind her hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

At least it hadn’t been one of the bawdy songs he’d learned in the army. That would’ve been really embarrassing. He stood and dusted himself off. “Uh…it’s fine. It’s an old folk song about a lost princess who forgot her family. My Ma used to…” He trailed off as Celica tensed up. “Priestess?”

 

“It’s… nothing.” She shook her head. “You have a wonderful voice, Atlas. Would you mind singing for all of us sometime?”

 

“…Sure.” It seemed rude to ask why she was acting weird when they barely knew one another.

 

“Well… I’d best be getting back.” Celica’s smile was strained. “Remember we have an early start tomorrow.”

 

It seemed like a sensible, priestess-y thing to do, but Atlas couldn’t help feeling like she was making an escape.

 

_And a song someone sings…_

_Once upon a December._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Pretend that 'December' is the name of a winter festival in Valentia or something. Also, since Atlas has the Disney Princess 'animals love me', I figured he probably has a great singing voice too!


	20. Each Day's Best (Clair)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for the terrible, horrible, no good, really bad day. Thank goodness someone is there to talk about it at the end. (Up to 400 words)
> 
> Actual word count: 449

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately the person running the prompts got busy towards the end of June, so this was the last one. If you have time, I'd love it if you could share any thoughts you have, which minific was your favourite, whether anyone was a bit OOC, etc. Thanks to everyone for reading!

Clair knew it would be an awful day when she woke three hours early and couldn’t get back to sleep. By the time the army stirred, she was exhausted. It took her twice as long to make sure Aero’s saddle and her weapons were all in good shape. Her brother had already checked on her once when Alm arrived.

 

“Are you alright?” he said. “You look awful. If you need to rest today…”

 

She turned away. Bad enough to look incompetent in front of her brother and commander. To look ugly as well? Insult to injury. “Do not worry yourselves. I am just… distracted.”

 

Alm didn’t seem convinced.

 

She wasn’t surprised when Clive tried again. “I must insist—”

 

Something in her snapped. “No!” She spun around. Clive jerked back. “I won’t have you thinking you can pester me because I’m your sister! There are dozens of soldiers in this army lacking sleep, and I do not see you scolding _them._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Her anger gave her energy. She would _not_ be treated like an incompetent. Clair was the only pegasus knight in the army, and that meant she and Aero couldn’t be missed. If anything, it was the infantry who needed to take a day of rest—

 

Clair squinted suddenly against the sun’s glare. That blot near the mountains…

 

Her stomach lurched. “Gargoyles, coming up fast from the north-east! There’s dozens!”

 

The soldiers below readied their arms. But there wasn’t _time_. Outnumbered in the air, she and Aero were grounded. Clair could only watch as the gargoyles hit the ranks with their crude scythes, again and again.

 

When they made camp that evening, she walked around in a daze. Their soldiers deserved more than a shallow grave at the roadside. _I should’ve seen them sooner. If I hadn’t been so tired…_

 

“Clair?”

 

“Lukas?” She braced herself. If she asked to be treated like a normal soldier, then she had suffer being reprimanded like one.

 

Lukas only said: “Good work out there today.”

 

Clair blinked at him. “But this morning—”

 

“The disagreement with your brother? I believe he let his concern for you get the better of him. Your judgement was sound; we needed you out there today.”

 

This was not what she had expected at all. “I didn’t see…”

 

Lukas touched her shoulder, giving her a calming smile. “If you hadn’t been flying, the losses would’ve been even greater. No one can be perfect all the time, so we must do our best each day. Some days you do better than others. Do you understand?”

 

_There will always be bad days. You can’t prevent every mistake._

Clair nodded slowly. “Thank you, Lukas. I… will do my best tomorrow, too.”


End file.
